


A Tale of Fire and Ice

by LittleInkling64



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Political Alliances, Political Intrigue, Slow Burn, enemies to strangers to friends to lovers really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleInkling64/pseuds/LittleInkling64
Summary: In a world where war has always been threatened but never realized, Katara makes a stark choice to preserve her people's future freedoms and livelihoods at the cost of her own happiness.  Zuko is too busy trying to retain his tenuous grasp on the crown prince status to fully acknowledge the terror of his impending marriage.  But when both their goals for a brighter future are threatened, they must reconcile their differences and fight united through the perils of the Fire Nation court and a spiraling web of conspiracies.  Love may be an idealistic expectation for their alliance, but with a little trust and more than a bit of luck, friendship might just be possible.
Relationships: Azula/violence, Iroh/tea, Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Ozai/being a jerk, Sokka/Food
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. The Washing of Many Tides...

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello. Not my first rodeo with fanfic but my first go around at ATLA fanfic. I'll keep this short, but quick heads-up: this fic is purely for fun, so I can't guarantee an upload schedule. Also, this will be less like a full-on story and more like a series of scenes that happen in chronological order, not necessarily right after each other but sometimes with time-lapses in between.

_I am frigid as ice, as relentless as the waves. I am flexible and rigid at the perfect time and place._ She chanted in her mind, letting the mantra wash over her.

The waves under the ship sang to her, whispering and calling her to dive down, let the water wash her troubles and worries away. She blocked out the call. She reminded herself of her purpose. Why she was here.

_“But Katara—”_

_“Sokka, please.” Her voice was colder than it had ever been with her brother, and he recoiled. This was not the sister he knew. Guilt stabbed her, and she softened her tone._

_“I know you care. I appreciate it. But think of the opportunity—no, no, just think about it for more than a minute.”_

_Sokka sighed, but he sat in silence for a minute._

_“You remember the saying grandfather Pakku once told us, don’t you?”_

_“The one about having a full stomach before you die?”_

_“No! The one about the cliffs on the beach.”_

_“Oh—oh.”_

_She sighed, letting the breath out very, very slowly. “A single wave will not bring them down, but the washing of many tides—”_

_“—will prove successful. I know.”_

_“Do you?”_

_“I do. But do you know what you’re getting into? Father approves—he thinks you’ll do a great deal of good, but—but he knows you won’t be happy.”_

_“That isn’t what matters right now.”_

_“But shouldn’t it matter?”_

Three years ago, she might have agreed with Sokka. The fresh-faced, fifteen-year-old girl she had been then, just on the cusp of being a woman, would have agreed heartily with him. But that had been during a time of plenty and security. In a time such as that, she’d had the luxury of turning up her nose at prospective suitors, and her father had humored her. He still humored her, three years later, as a full-fledged adult, but she had asked for this. She knew what was at stake, and she would not wait until the desperation in her father’s eyes had reached their zenith. She would not wait for him to begin asking her to consider it.

Her eyes stung, but she held back the tears—years of practice quickly kicking in. Daughters of chieftains—of great leaders—did not cry as any ordinary woman might. They were composed, they were poised, they always acted like they knew precisely what to do next even if they were at their wit’s end.

They did not mourn the loss of their own comfort and happiness when it meant the saving of their people.

But somehow, despite her cool, collected demeanor, she felt a shiver run down her back, and its source was far from being the icy waters around them. She had the strongest suspicion that she was walking right into a nest of vipers.

* * *

For waking up on a day when his fate was being decided for him, Zuko felt surprisingly neutral. Yes—he thought mildly as a servant adjusted his royal uniform—yes, neutral was the word for it. He neither disliked it nor liked it; he had fallen into the moody mist of indifference. He had long ago learned to live without happiness when his mother had disappeared.

And if he was completely honest, despite his indifference, he harbored a blossoming sense of curiosity about the legendary healer of the South Pole.

A healer—because that was the crux of the matter. Though he would not hesitate to deny it should anyone outside the palace ask, his father was dying. The Fire Lord was dying. The best physicians in the land had been summoned, demoted, threatened—the answer was always the same from every one of them: this was beyond medicine. This was beyond their expertise. This was a sickness deep and poisonous.

They needed a healer of legendary talents, the Southern Water Tribe—weakened in the past three years by various calamities—needed an alliance that would secure their lands for the next generation, if not beyond.

It was the kind of political move that was neat and clean and easy to understand. 

Except that the legendary waterbender coming from the south had no clue about the true nature of the Fire Lord’s condition. If she did, he suspected that the Southern Water Tribe would much prefer to keep their legend at home and simply wait to see what the next Fire Lord would do while the current one wasted away. And if he was completely honest, he wouldn’t blame them, considering his uncle was next in line.

He walked briskly to the main entrance. Naturally, they would wait to exit with all the pomp and grandeur that befitted the Fire Lord and his royal children. Not to mention his uncle, though he knew well enough that if his father had his way, the Dragon of the West would not even be in the palace. But much as the Fire Lord might hate it, old General Iroh had returned to the palace after nearly five years away.

_“Perhaps I am too hopeful, but if your father has approved this course of action, perhaps the years are beginning to grant him wisdom.”_

_“Maybe.” Zuko didn’t want to speculate. He knew his father well enough to know that he did little that didn’t benefit himself or his goals._

_Years ago, as a young boy, he had idolized his father, desperate to please him with anything and everything. Even to the point of challenging his sister to prove his firebending abilities. But he had underestimated her ability and overestimated his father’s willingness to step in once things had gone too far._

_Now he bore the cost of such a miscalculation on his face. He didn’t think about it most days, but now he touched the scar lightly._

_Iroh touched his arm._

_“You know, there is a proverb about the man bears the scar of a snakebite. A bitten man knows the danger of the venom and is far more cautious than the man who has never been bitten. And a cautious man is a wiser man.”_

Was he any wiser than he had been? He had long ago ceased to idolize his father, though it had taken him years to realize it. Somewhere along the way, he had caught a glimpse of the man his father was underneath the steady, cold gaze, and the little boy he had been cowered at the sight of it. It was far crueler than anything he had ever seen, and much as he would never admit it, he saw glimpses of the same things in Azula. For her sixteen years, she didn’t resemble a teenage girl in the slightest—unless the average Fire Nation teenager could best anyone but the Fire Lord in an Agni Kai, face down a charging rhino and win, and talk circles around any diplomats that came to stay. All things considered, he pitied the waterbender, since she would have Azula for a sister-in-law.

And now that it came to it, he really didn’t want to think about the implication of that statement. He didn’t really want to think to hard about what was coming next for him. Iroh had tried to ease his fears, assuring him that this waterbender had agreed to the alliance herself and that the people of the Water Tribes were fluid, flexible, and ever-changing people. The perfect diplomats. 

Azula came to stand beside him, straight as a rod, her face fixed in a sharp smile.

“You could look less like you’re going to eat her alive.” He muttered, not bothering to look at her.

“Darling brother of mine, I would think she’d have more to fear from you. After all, you’re the one she’ll be stuck with till _to ashes you both go_.” Her expression never once changed, but she flicked her eyes at him, and he could sense her pleasure at digging her claws into him. Her mocking rendition of the traditional marriage rites only added insult to injury, striking him most where it hurt. Where he was most afraid.

Their father joined them, attended by at least ten of the Fire Nation’s finest elite force. He did not speak, but his presence radiated a palpable sense of tension into the room. There was the distinct feeling that one should step lightly and step correctly. The consequences of failing to do so did not bear thinking about.

There was the blare of horns, and together the entire royal family went to greet their newest member.

The bright sunlight shone down on them cheerily, warming him from the inside out. It was uncommonly warm, even for the season, but the sun brought power, and the thought warmed him. It lent him some small measure of confidence.

In the distance, they saw a great procession, like a great lizard-caterpillar clambering up the many great steps to approach the palace. First came the guards of the ship, then the captain, then several servants and then—

There she was.

Dark skin, even darker hair—but not black, quite. And blue eyes, blue like the sky in summer, blue like the turtle-duck pond, blue like ice frozen solid. She held her chin high, and the delicate loops of her hair—caught up in an elaborate headdress that surely was Water Tribe tradition—shifted slightly as she approached. Her hands were concealed within long sleeves, held closely to her middle though the day was blazing. Did waterbenders sweat-bend? It was a foolish thought, perhaps, but he couldn’t possibly know. If they did, he doubted one would ever admit it to him.

Those icy eyes flickered over all of them, just as cold as Azula’s might have been. He heard his sister take in a breath, making a noise that might just have indicated respect. The woman’s eyes jumped to him, and he suddenly felt the weight of her full stare. Then something seemed to catch her gaze, and she stood transfixed, those eyes softening ever so slightly.

And even though he didn’t know her, her pity stung.

He heard his father welcome her cordially to the Fire Nation. At least, his words were cordial, carefully selected and perfectly neutral. The waterbender returned the gesture, bowing her head respectfully—but only her head. The bow of those of equal rank. Whatever he might have thought before her arrival, the waterbender was no uneducated peasant.

She was a noble through and through, who knew exactly what she was doing.


	2. Bent Out of Shape

After their initial meeting, he didn’t see the waterbender for several hours. It had taken him a bit to see past the poised demeanor to the bags under her eyes, past the collected stance to the frazzled state of her elaborate headdress, coming apart in little bits and pieces. Much as she tried to hide it, this woman was exhausted from her journey, and was two minutes from coming apart at the seams.

Azula had recognized this, he was certain. He knew this because she immediately tried to take advantage of it.

“We are honored to meet you, master waterbender. I do hope your journey was not too… _strenuous_.” She said with clear deliberation.

The woman cut her eyes at Azula. A warning, cold and crystal clear. Her lips curved in a cool smile.

“On the contrary, _young_ princess. Such a long journey across the water has been refreshing.”

“Excellent. Because the Fire Lord has planned a great feast to celebrate your arrival. Naturally, many of our nobles are eager to meet the legendary waterbender—I do hope you’ll be able to make some excellent acquaintances tonight.”

Azula’s voice was practically glowing with syrupy cordiality. A little over-the-top, even for her.

“What an excellent opportunity.” The waterbender replied coolly, and gathered her robes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

It was not a question, and she’d swept out of their presence just as easily as she’d entered it.

* * *

Much as she tried to halt its progress, to conceal it, two rebellious tears trickled down her cheek the minute she was in her new quarters alone. She let them fall. Then she gathered herself. Time to prepare. She could tell this Princess Azula would be a needle in her side for however long she was here, and after how long she had spent on that sweltering boat, she wasn’t sure if she could handle anything else digging into her.

She rested her hands upon the washing basin, taking a deep breath. She counted to ten, finally daring to look at her reflection in the mirror of polished silver. She was as cool as a glacier, as swift as the ocean waves, she was—

She sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the heavy stone basin. She was cracking like late Spring’s ice, and sooner or later she would take the plunge into icy water. Idly, she wondered if it was worth it, if she shouldn’t just let herself sink into the cold that was so deadly and yet, so, _so_ familiar.

_No._ She shook her head. She was stronger than this. She was just tired. If she could just get through tonight, a good meal and a long night of rest would do her good. She would be _fine._

She saw the bell on a little table. For a long, long moment, she gazed at it, transfixed, unwilling to move. Then she snatched up the bell and rang sharply, handing herself over to an army of maids in unfamiliar shades of red.

* * *

_I got through, I got through, I got through._ She chanted to herself. She’d made it. She hadn’t been at her most eloquent, nor her most amicable, but these were nobles and royals. They didn’t expect her to be nice.

They expected her to spar.

They were all eager to see the Water Tribe peasant fail, to watch her make an utter and bumbling fool of herself. They had underestimated her ability to connect with Lin, her personal maid and one of the few people she had a feeling she was going to enjoy the company of while living here. After a few minutes of easy conversation and an offer of a quick healing session for her mother’s achy joints, Lin was happy to run Katara down through the evening’s events and carefully detail every little thing she would have to get right to get through. 

But she was done sparring. Now it was time to rest and build up her defenses for another day. Falling into a pile of silky sheets, into a bed far bigger than any she had ever had at home, she smiled for the first time all day and fell into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

It was far too dark when she woke. Her eyes shot open, and she sat up, every nerve ending feeling electrified. It was almost as if—her eyes quickly glanced to the window, shaded by soft curtains—and she sighed.

A full moon winked at her mockingly through the glass window—something she hadn’t seen in her life before visiting the Fire Nation—and she quickly slipped from under the covers and dressed. The full moon would leave her tingling with power until daybreak. She might as well get ready for the day.

A simple gown, respectable enough in case anyone should see her, but short enough to allow for the full range of her waterbending motions. And if anyone did see her, try to stop her, try to question her…perhaps she would pass it off as curious Water Tribe tradition to bend in the middle of the night.

No one stopped her or even noticed her as she made her way to the garden she had passed some time earlier. No one stopped her as she carefully took the pond water in hand and bent it in fluid streams above her head.

Ten serpent loops. Then twenty. Then thirty. As she fell into the rhythm of waterbending, fell into the richness of the moon’s power, she felt her muscles begin to relax. Energy flowed through her, in and out in a peaceful rhythm—the most at ease she had felt since first arriving here—

“May I join you?”

The water splashed to the pavement, splattering the hem of her skirt and her unexpected visitor in equal measure. She turned to see the old general standing, a little amused as he gently wiped water from his wrinkled face.

“I-I beg your pardon.” She managed to get out as she quickly bent the water from her skirt and the old general’s tunic.

“Ah, but the apology must be mine. I’m afraid I should know better than to startle a waterbender on a full moon.” He smiled. She felt herself smiling back, without hesitation. So unlike her with anyone but her own family…

“Well,” she glanced back at the pond longingly, then shook her head, “I don’t think I should be out here at this time of night in any case.”

“On the contrary, as the future Fire Lady, you have the right to go wherever you choose. And wisdom will help you tell the difference between where you can go and ought to go.”

She flinched at that, and though she tried desperately to hide it, the older man quickly saw.

“Ah. You are afraid of my nephew, perhaps?”

She turned away, bending water in short bursts absentmindedly with her wrist. 

“Or perhaps, you are afraid of your new life here.” The old general sighed and rested his portly frame down on a nearby rock. “Family is very important to the people of the Water Tribe, or so I have heard. More important than power or honor.”

“More important than life itself.” She added, then cursed herself. It was still late at night, and despite the moon’s presence, she was still exhausted from yesterday—if she wasn’t careful she might say something—

“Yes, indeed.” The old general smiled again. Then his face shifted to a serious expression. “Then you have much to teach my family, for they do not see it that way.”

She nodded, slowly. What was this old man about?

“In that case, you should know that my nephew is an honorable man, who is just as frightened as you are about the future. And I think you will find that a friendship with him will lead to change.”

Her heart beat double-time, and she hardened her tone. “Sir, I am not a manipulator—”

The old general held up a hand, smiling. “Please, call me Uncle Iroh. After all, sooner or later, you’ll be my niece-in-law.” He paused. “I don’t doubt that you have the best of intentions in influencing my nephew. I think you both will have much to teach each other.”

“Oh I—oh.” She began, then processed what he said. She nodded, and they sat in silence for a bit.

“Ah, but I’ve forgotten the reason I walked out to the garden. If you don’t mind, may I join you in your forms?”

She started. “You wish to join me in…in _waterbending_ forms?”

“But of course. I have gained much wisdom by studying the form of other benders. And between you and me,” he winked, “much of the same gets a little old after a while.”

Hesitated, she finally nodded and took the puddle stance. The old gen—Uncle Iroh—quickly mimicked her stance. Together, they flowed from stance to stance, with a single stream of water between them and the moon beaming down on them from above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think you'd get out of an Iroh bonding session that easily? Don't worry, Zutara fluff will come eventually, but I'm pretty sure this *is* tagged as slow burn...and if it isn't before I post this, it will be. Sorry if that irritates anyone, but if you're gonna do the enemies to lovers trope, ya gotta take your time in my opinion. Hope you enjoyed and reviews are appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry all. Had this sitting in my folder and I forgot about it. Welp, here ya go.

It’d been a week since she’d first arrived. Life had fallen back into its familiar rhythm, albeit with a new face at dinner and another set of footsteps in the massive palace. And despite all this time spent with the woman he was supposedly going to spend the rest of his life with, he hadn’t seen much of her.

Literally speaking, he had seen her—many times, in fact—but he hadn’t seen anything beyond the harsh, icy cool demeanor that surrounded her like the cold morning mist that shrouded their archipelago. It was particularly effective when speaking to Azula, he had to admit; despite his sister’s best attempts to needle the woman and get under her icy cold skin, Azula hadn’t so much as put a dent in the Water Tribe woman’s façade.

He envied and feared her skill in equal measure. Though he would love to be able to endure Azula’s barbs with such collected calm, he hated the thought of spending the rest of his life with someone about as warm and friendly as a glacier. More than hating it, he feared it; he’d hoped that perhaps with a new member added to the ranks, the dynamic in the palace could change. Perhaps it could return to the warmth that it’d had when his mother—

“Darling little Zuzu, are you quite finished pondering the secrets of the universe? Or should I wait another turn of the sundial in order to spar?” Azula’s voice floated across the dirt of the training courtyard as she nonchalantly wrapped her knuckles tightly.

“No…I’m ready.” He tried the cold and icy tactic, keeping his face neutral as he approached Azula within the ring. They adjusted their positions to stand exactly across from each other and bowed quickly—he smoothly and Azula in the briefest of jerking motions. As if she couldn’t bear the thought of bowing to her brother any longer than the customary second required.

He flicked his eyes around and caught sight of his Uncle sitting mildly on a stone bench, watching. And not far from him, watching in perfect silence with those electric, _lightning_ -blue eyes—

Azula sighed, long and loudly, then struck as he turned his head back to face her. A succession of quick blows flew from her fists—no fire. The Fire Lord was anxious to make sure his children were more than mere master benders but in fact well-rounded warriors. He had taken to dual swords when they’d studied weaponry, though they’d been forced to learn the basics of all kinds, and Azula had taken rather fondly to a set of wicked throwing knives.

Azula drew back, watching him with golden eyes narrowed to slits. She paused for a breath, then feinted right, following up with a heavy chop to his left side. Naturally she would attack from his left side; she’d been taught well to exploit the slightest weakness. She knew better than anyone that he had less visibility from his left eye.

He quickly dodged the chop, since it was too heavy to block, and he blocked her succeeding punches. Retreating, he threw in a feint and managed to sweep Azula off her feet for a second. She hit the dirt hard but quickly recovered, spitting mud from her mouth with a grin.

“You know, I don’t care what dad says about you, I think you do have potential. Perhaps I’d even go so far as to say _not_ useless!” She said this cheerily, as if it were some sort of compliment.

He heard the faint noise of someone’s disapproval just behind him, though if it had come from his Uncle or Lady Katara he couldn’t say.

But the verbal jab had done its job, sad as it was to say. Everything went red as though he was looking through colored glass and he rushed forward with a flurry of forceful but wild attacks. Azula was smiling, which only served to infuriate him further, and he pictured knocking her head back as he swung.

Before he knew what had happened, his sister had flipped him with ease, using his anger as the perfect distraction. Internally, he groaned, mentally kicking himself for falling for one of her tricks once again. And for doing it precisely when they had double their normal audience.

But Azula wasn’t finished. She stood over him, smiling faintly.

“Get up. That was hardly a battle, and we haven’t finished.”

When he didn’t move, her smiled melted quicker than a chunk of ice at high noon on the Summer Solstice. She kicked him in the ribs, forcing a gasp from him, but he didn’t respond otherwise. Slowly, painfully, he began to rise to his knees, looking her in the eye. She held his gaze with a sickeningly smug smile, then quickly retreated a step, winding her fist back to punch as he braced for impact—

Laughter. Lady Katara was laughing. He flushed, angry with her, but she wasn’t finished.

“Princess Azula, you should really learn from the Earth Kingdom saying, ‘why grind the fine flour?’” Her laughter was sincere, with a distinctly hard edge to it. It grated on his nerves, but more so for Azula.

“And _what_ precisely would this particular saying have anything to do with our current sparring match?”

“My dear princess, you’ve clearly beaten him. Why continue to kick him when he’s down?”

“Why, do you have sentimental feelings for your fiancée?”

Lady Katara smiled wanly. “Whether I do or whether I don’t is hardly your concern. It’s a waste of time and energy to kick an opponent when he’s already beaten. You don’t grind flour that’s already been ground.”

Azula paused, musing over this.

“You’re right. Sparring with little Zuzu is hardly worth my time anymore. He can’t even offer me a decent fight. You, on the other hand—”

“—would be glad to. At another time and place. I don’t have the correct attire for sparring today.” Lady Katara tilted her head in slight interest.

“ _Fine_ suggestion. I look forward to it.” Azula offered a tight-lipped smile, spun on her heel, and left at a brisk pace.

There was a spot of silence.

“How do you know an Earth Kingdom saying?” Iroh asked mildly.

“I don’t. I made it up.” She turned and addressed him. “Your sister seems like the type to appreciate efficiency. I thought perhaps she would enjoy the saying.”

She rose, gracefully, and approached him. He didn’t dare look her in the eye, but she offered him a hand. After a pause, he took it and she hauled up upright. She brushed the dust from his robe, and for the slightest second she leaned close and whispered:

“Where did she kick you?”

He hesitated, but put his hand over the spot. Lady Katara nodded swiftly, flicking her wrist. A stream of water followed, pooling around her hand in a glowing mass.

Healing abilities. The reason she was here. The fabled power he’d heard about but never seen. She flicked her eyes at him, and he gingerly pulled the hem of his tunic up. In a trice, the water was on the already forming bruise, and a chill ran through his body from the spot. In the next second, the water was gone, back into some pouch concealed within her sleeves and she was inclining her head to him in a slight bow.

“A fascinating match. I hope to witness some true firebending eventually as well.” She commented as if nothing had happened. Iroh rose to accompany her, and they headed out of the courtyard in silence.

But not before she looked back, shooting him the swiftest and most secretive of smiles.

And he was reminded, inexplicably, of his mother’s smile.


End file.
